Choices
by ipio
Summary: Survival is not a privilege, it is a responsibility. What is left of Angel Investigations make sense of their life before them, while the fallen make peace with the eternity to come. [Formerly titled 'Guilt']
1. Guilt

**Disclaimer:** _Look, we all know they're not mine. I'm just borrowing them. But this is my story. Plagiarize and I will hunt you down._

The Host. Lorne. Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan. The man at the bar went by many names. Lately, he went by only one.

"Hey you!" It suited him well. He looked at the bartender in front of him expectedly.

"Yes?"

"You gonna sit there all night? We got a two drink minimum." Lorne sighed as he reached for his wallet. "Can't a man contemplate in peace?"

The Barkeep took Lorne's money and shook his head. "Not in my bar. What'll it be?"

"A sea breeze." The barkeep looked at Lorne as if he had horns. Granted, Lorne _did_ have horns, but from his current angle the bartender wasn't aware of that fact. "Fine, a beer. My skin is green, and it takes a sea breeze to freak you out?"

The bartender shrugged and handed Lorne his drink. "I thought it was a skin condition. I don't want to rude. Now finish your beer and get out of my bar, ya freak."

Lorne sighed, and took a sip of his drink. That was New York for you. A hand suddenly came up from behind Lorne, and grabbed the bartender by the throat.

"Freak is a word I am not fond of. Do not use it against those whose company I seek."

Lorne didn't need to look up from his beer to see who was defending him. "Calm down Illyria."

The former god in question shrugged, and let go of the bartender's throat. "If that is what you wish." She leaned against the bar and Lorne took a moment to look her over.

"I see you're alive. And without a scratch on you. The others?"

"Slain. The dragons feasted upon their remains. A horde of kervitoes demons kept their teeth as trophies." Illyria threw a small bag on the table. "I have since retrieved them."

"That's lovely. And how long have you been carrying around what's left of my dead friends?"

If Illyria noticed Lorne's sarcasm, she did not acknowledge it. "Awhile. It took me several months to find the right horde of kervitoes. And even longer to find you."

Lorne nodded. "That's because I didn't particularly want to be found. I'm trying to start a new life."

Illyria looked around them and back at Lorne. "And this is the life you choose?"

"I killed an unarmed man. I fought beside him, and then I shot him. Before I walked away completely, I kicked him just to make sure he was dead. He was."

"I do not see the relevance."

Lorne let out a short laugh that was laced with contempt. "I suppose you wouldn't. Let me give you one lesson that Wesley never did. It's called guilt. I killed a man, and I feel guilty. I did something horrible that I can never take back. And to add insult to injury, even if I could take it back, I wouldn't. I didn't make a mistake. But that doesn't make me any less of a murderer."

Illyria took in what Lorne said, and reached a conclusion. "Guilt is a wasted emotion. It changes nothing."

Lorne was seething with anger, but did not yell. Instead, he looked Illyria straight in the eye and said, "That's easy for you to say. You've never bothered to feel guilty about anything."

"You are either lying about your empathetic abilities, or purposefully trying to anger me. I walk about in a dead girl's body. Her death is on my hands. It is not in my power to take that back. My people are dead, as are my comrades, and I envy them. In some cases, surviving is the worst possible fate."

"I'll drink to that."

"As will I"

Lorne looked at Illyria in surprise as she took a seat beside him and ordered a drink from the bartender who had previously been huddling in a corner. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, until Illyria broke it.

"You wish for me to leave and never come back."

Lorne gasped in mock surprise. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

Once again, Illyria didn't bite. "I have a request. If you fulfill it, I will not attempt to contact you again."

"You'll excuse me if I'm a little weary of requests right now."

"It is a simple one. From what I understand, Winifred Burkle was not the first among you to fall. I have heard mention of two fallen champions. Doyle and Cordelia?"

Lorne nodded, and took a moment to remember another woman he had loved dearly.

"Cordy. She was..." Lorne paused and took a deep breath. Remembering Cordelia was always painful, as was the bitter thought that he was probably the only person alive whom she had called a friend. "She was a very dear friend. And one hell of a warrior. She died a few weeks before Fred did. I never knew Doyle, but I wish I had. It doesn't seem right that none of his friends are alive anymore. He sacrificed himself to save them."

"They were buried next to each other?"

"Yeah. Angel had what was left of their first headquarters turned into a small memorial. He didn't even use the firm's money to get it done. He said that it didn't seem right."

"That is admirable. I wish to bury what remains of my comrades there. Wesley's ashes as well."

Lorne looked at Illyria as if he was seeing her for the first time. "You had Wes cremated?"

"He mentioned in passing his dislike for his father. I assumed he would prefer to be with what was left of his friends rather than be a forgotten grave in his family's plot. Did I assume incorrectly? Have I done something offensive?"

"No. Not at all. Actually, you've done something that I think Wesley would have appreciated."

"You are surprised."

"Well...yes."

"I will always be in Wesley's debt. I repay my debts. In my day, when one died, great ceremonies took place. I understand something similar happens here?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that we have great ceremonies. But a funeral is common. I doubt we could have one though. Too many people would draw unwanted attention. As the pathetic remains of Angel Investigations, I'm sure that you and I are marked creatures. And I'm also sure that the higher powers that run Wolfram and Heart would love one last chance to humiliate the people that brought them screeching to a halt. Causing literally all hell to break out at their funeral would fall neatly under that category." Lorne paused and let out a small laugh. "It's almost funny. Even in death, my friends aren't allowed any rest."

"Then it will just be the two of us. And I also heard mention of a town called Sunnydale. And girl. She was important to the vampires, but I do not remember her name."

"Buffy." Lorne said the slayer's name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Don't concern yourself with remembering her name. Angel despised you, and you fought beside him in the end. He loved Buffy, and she abandoned him. They all did."

"From what I understand, there are gray areas where that is concerned. They thought-"

"You know what blue? I'm going to be fickle here, and say to hell with the gray areas. Our friends were heroes. They went down fighting for what they believed in. And all the slayer and company cared about was Wolfram and Heart. They didn't want to bother with our friends when they were alive, and I don't want to hear their false condolences or overdue guilt."

"Funny."

"What's funny?"

"You called them our friends."

Lorne nodded, and stood up. "I guess I did. Come on, you can stay at my place tonight."

**Author's note**: _Well, this is the first fanfiction I've done in awhile. What do you guys think? Was it worth the effort, or a big fat joke? I'm looking forward to writing more, and updating and revamping my old stuff. Anyway, whatever you think of my story, leave reviews. They're like payment to fanfiction authors. Constructive criticism welcome. Further chapters to come._


	2. Angel's Choice

It hurt so much. Angel knew he was going to die, but he didn't expect all the pain. And his friends. They had undergone the same pain. Where were they? Were they in heaven? They must have gone to heaven. Of course they went to heaven. They were clean. He was dirty. He sent his friends to die. He was supposed to go to hell. And that meant...this was hell. Why was hell so dark?

"_Why are its eyes closed?"_

His eyes were closed. Of course they were. And they were going to stay that way for as long as he could hold them. Angel had been to hell before. There was no way out, no one to please. Maybe if he could just keep his eyes closed...

"_What is your name?"_

Voices. There were voices. Deep echoes, barely human. They were whispering. He knew they were. But every syllable rang in his ear, grabbed hold of him. They were going to taunt him. Soulless, pathetic vampire. Fallen hero. Who did you save in the end?

"_It does not hear us."_

There were the voices again. They were so cold. He had to say something back. But he could barely find his voice. He just started talking. He tried to be as loud as they were. As quiet as they were.

"They ripped me to pieces. They ripped me apart. I felt them."

"_What is its name?"_

The scourge...scourge of Europe? Is that what he was called? Or was his name...Angel? Was that it? There was something else. A little girl. A little girl called him Liam. And he had feasted upon her. He had enjoyed it.

"I killed one. And then another. And then another. They took my sword. They ripped me to bits. I felt it."

"_Does it have a name?"_

Did he? Hadn't he called himself something? Names...names were important. Good and evil had names. He had different names. They distinguished between...between...what?

"I saw them tear my friends apart."

"_All creatures have names. Don't they?"_

Don't they. There were women. Three women. Three lifetimes. They had all called him something...What?

"They took my legs first."

"_Do they? I'm not sure. I haven't seen one like this."_

God, they were the most beautiful women. And they had loved him. Why had they done that? Who would do that?

"They kept me alive long enough to see what they were doing to me. What they were doing to my friends...Oh God, what they did to my friends..." The man with his eyes closed let out a choked sob. The voices didn't care.

_"This one has many names. Three. Far too many."_

Three. That was right. He was called three things. But there was one name that mattered, wasn't there? They had all called him that name.

"_He is presumptuous. Three names? How silly. At least it has stopped talking."_

Not just the women. The fallen. The comrades. They had all called him something. Was it leader?

"_Maybe it will just lie there."_

No. It wasn't leader.

"_What else is it good for?"_

It was...friend. They had called him friend.

"_It is good for playing with."_

They had followed him. They had trusted him.

"_It is not. Not if it keeps its eyes closed."_

They had died for him...They had died for...Who was it!

"We could open them for him. It can't do it for itself" 

Investigations...Investigations...Investigations...

"_It can't do anything for itself. It is-"_

"**Helpless**! Helpless!" That was the word!

_"It talks to us? It presumes to know what we will say?"_

Angel Investigations. They helped the helpless. That was his name.

"**Angel**"

His name was Angel. His friends had died for Angel.

"_It thinks we still care about its name. That time has passed."_

His friends had died fighting for Angel. Because they loved him, they sacrificed themselves for his cause. They had all accepted their fates.

"_Fate. It is thinking about fate."_

And he was going to accept his, whatever it was. Any less would taint their sacrifice.

"_It thinks it knows something about fate."_

The voices were wrong. Angel knew nothing about fate, something he could now freely admit. He had tossed words like fate around so causally, without really understanding their full meaning.

"It knows less than nothing." 

They were right. He knew nothing. He could accept that. And he could try and accept whatever was in front him. Because he had to.

And with that thought, Angel opened his eyes.

Authors Note: What awaits Angel? Who knows? This chapter was a character piece, as most of them age going to be. I don't think the important thing is what happens to Angel after he opens his eyes. I think the important thing is that he willingly opened them. But would you guys expect any less from our favorite champion? I thought not.

Most of the early chapters of this story would probably work as one long chapter, but ya know what? I hate really long chapters. I hate reading them, and writing them is almost as unpleasant. You may call it simple; I call it practical ;)

So, until next time, leave me a review! Even one would be nice.


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